


In His Eyes

by phantom_of_the_keurig



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom - Susan Kay, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber, The Phantom of the Opera (1989)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Erik has Issues, M/M, Prompt Fic, Suicide Attempt, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 17:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10167659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantom_of_the_keurig/pseuds/phantom_of_the_keurig
Summary: I was on my way into the Opera House actually, when she found me. Her words make my stomach drop, and for a moment I try to tell myself she's playing an awful trick on me. Yet the tears in her eyes and the shrillness of her voice smack my hopes away and I know what she's screaming at me is true. "He's on the roof, he's on the roof and he won't come down Monsieur!"





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello again! Thanks for checking out my first pharoga based fic. I tried not to make it too BLAM in your face- since I'm still exploring the wonders of this pairing :) I did mix elements of Leroux / Kay / ALW all together, especially Kay and ALW. I tried to use this prompt response as a sort of character study as to how I typically see / write the characters. Any who, please enjoy! And thanks to the anonymous person on Tumblr that sent me the prompt "How can you look at me and see something good?"

 

It's funny, time. How fast it can go, making a week melt into a month and then into a year. It's fascinating, how time can _also_ turn slowly, making a day feel like a month and a year like a lifetime. It's during these slower, agonizing moments that I consider just how curious time is. Time can change you entirely, it can convince you that what you once saw as wrong is now right.

Time has not been kind to those around me. Every soul that I love from my mother and father, to my wife and son, has been snatched away from me well before their time. I think that's why when the blonde daughter of the ballet mistress nearly blows out my ear drums with her shrill message I don't hesitate before storming my way up toward the opera house roof. Because time is cruel to me, and with every step I take my heart cries _'Not him, not him too'_.

I throw open the door at the top of the winding steps with my shoulder. It's windy, and stinging whips of snow and ice make my eyes water as I search the rooftop. Giant, golden statues loom over me, and I nearly miss his stone like figure as he stands perilously close to the edge.

The wind whips about him and makes his loose shirt flutter. He is so thin, _so skeletally thin_ , that I'm surprised the wind hasn't blown him over the edge. My heart is beating so fast that it makes my throat feel tight. I want to run at him and rip him away from the edge, but I'm terrified he'll hear me and jump before I can stop him.

He must know I'm there, because before I can force my voice to work his even one reaches me. "Good evening, Nadir." He sounds empty, like there's only the shell of his body and voice here on the roof. The wind stops and thrusts us into total silence. I find my voice after a moment, but I can't keep the shake out of it.

"What are you doing, Erik?" I'm not sure he hears me, even though there's a heavy silence around us. As I pad closer to him, Erik tips his chin up towards the sky. What little moonlight there is glows against the dull colored mask on the right side of his face. His amber eyes lazily trail down to look at me, and I freeze mid step.

I'm closer to him now, enough so that if I had to I could reach out and grab the back of his shirt. My heart still drums with a wretched fear, but I do not dare try and move closer. In my time with Erik, I have learned he is dangerously unpredictable at his best and an uncharted madman at his worst.

"She is gone. With the boy, of course. I suspect somewhere far away from here by now." Erik still watches me as he speaks. The uncovered side of his face is pale, and dark shadows make his eye look just as sunken in as the one behind the mask. His cheekbone is even more sharp and prominent than normal. I feel my chest tighten with an irrational thought that perhaps Erik is _already_ dead, and his corpse stands here instead.

"I sent her away." He tells me before I can ask. I am thankful that Christine is safe, and I let my spine relax a bit knowing that her death has not caused Erik to dare stand on the edge of the roof. He looks straight down at the city below and I resist the urge to pull him back.

"Will you come down, Erik? We can speak at my home. I'll have Darius set a fire, and you can tell me what happened. Won't you come with me?"

Erik seems to consider my plea for a moment. I brace myself to reach out and grab him, and he scoffs. I just barely hear him murmur "The only _thing_ that has happened is Erik."

I can't help thinking about time again. There have been occasions, the most terrible moments in my life, where time almost seemed to stop. It happened when my wife died, and when I learned about my son's grave prognosis. As I watch Erik begin to teeter forward, I realize that time has slowed to a crawl. I feel like I'm not in control of my own body, like I'm watching as someone else reaches their arm out toward Erik.

I don't even feel his shirt beneath my hand, but I still jerk my body back and begin to wrap my other arm about his waist. I hear an awful, primal wail and I'm honestly not sure if it's coming from him or me. Time snaps back to its normal pace as we crash into the ground a safe distance away from the edge.

Erik struggles and wrestles against me and I dodge his wild strikes as best as I can. I fight to keep my grip on him, and my heart thuds again to the beat of _'Not him, not him too'_. Erik is like a feral alley cat, spitting and shrieking. The wind picks up again and now all I can hear is the moan of the wind and Erik's desperate pleas for release.

His assault against my arms starts to slow. Soon he's a weeping, broken heap half in my lap. I push back on my heel and drag us until my back rests against a cold statue of some sort of mythical figure. I release my firm grip from his wrists, and instead of restraining him I slowly embrace his shuddering form.

The wind and ice hurt my skin and I long for the warmth of my own home. I don't move as Erik cries himself hoarse. Only when I notice a faint, blue tint on his skin do I move. He doesn't protest when I usher him off me and back into the opera house. I know I cannot allow him back down into his own home, not in his fragile mental state. I don't tell him that he'll be staying with me for the foreseeable future. Neither of us say a word as I smuggle him out of the opera house.

* * *

 

He doesn't speak to me for weeks. I don't pester him with constant chatter, and I try not to hover. It's different, having Erik in my home. Darius was appalled when I brought Erik through the front door that night. He had begged me not to allow _'that masked fiend'_ into our home. Of course, I ignored his spiteful comments and assured him that Erik would do us no harm. I don't see how he could, he barely moved. Sometimes I had to watch his chest to see if he was still breathing.

It's almost like Erik isn't here. I think that pleases Darius, and he has for the most part ignored Erik's presence. I was worried that I would have to keep a close eye on Erik, but the man hardly moves. He spends his time in the guest bedroom, either sleeping the day away or staring off into some distant place only he can see.

I wait for Erik to emerge from the room and his mental isolation on his own. By the fourth week, I know it will not happen. That morning, I instruct Darius to set out an extra plate for our morning meal. I knock on Erik's door until he opens it, where I waste no time informing him that his plate is waiting in the dining room.

I'm shocked when he does not slam the door in my face and actually joins me downstairs. Erik doesn't eat much, he never has, and the atmosphere is a bit tense with Darius glaring the entire time. It's a start, nevertheless. I know I can't let Erik heal on his own, and from that moment on I know I must engage him in whatever I can.

* * *

 

Erik slides the white bishop across the board and I accept my defeat, again. He grins in that irritating, lopsided way that only he can. "Got you." He says and cheerfully leans back into his chair. I want to wipe the look off his face with a smart remark, but a cool breeze flows in from the open window beside us and I bite my tongue.

We both look out the window, and when Erik isn't looking I glance at his face. It's a sunny day, and I consider inviting him out for an evening walk. I know he enjoys the fresh air, though he won't admit it. It's hard for him to journey outside, but I'm more than pleased with the great progress he has made. Erik's stability seems to bloom more and more each day, like the flowers outside in the garden.

Darius appears in the doorway and stops to eye Erik. He brings me a stack of letters and pointedly ignores my masked companion. "Good afternoon, Darius." Erik says evenly. Darius looks utterly insulted and scoffs before leaving the room. I chuckle and Erik shrugs his sharp shoulders in defeat. "He loathes me."

I shake my head, but Erik isn't looking for an answer. He grins again and tilts his head. "It's fine. I despise myself as well, I can't fault him for his feelings." Erik's casual remark makes me frown. I'm not sure if he notices my disapproval as he begins resetting the chess pieces. I want to say something, anything to help repel those dark thoughts from his mind.

Although Erik has improved since the winter, I continue to worry for him. There are still times he will spout out the most awful, disturbing self-remarks. I often find myself restless late at night, plagued with a sinking feeling that Erik keeps the most depressing thoughts to himself. Those are the nights I feel my heart twist and flutter. Indeed, those are also the nights I have to press a pillow to my face and scold myself for having such longing thoughts.

"I don't hate you." I offer kindly, as he finishes putting the last chess piece in place. Erik looks bewildered, and his muscles tense as if he's preparing to bolt. I fear I've already said too much, but I let myself go on before Erik can actually flee. "I don't hate you, Erik."

He nods as his eyes dart away from mine to stare at an invisible stain on the floor. "Well," He almost whispers "I'm sorry you feel that way." With that, Erik turns from his chair and strides out of the room. I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table. I feel idiotic, and all of a sudden crushingly lonely. I pinch the space between my eyes and sigh.

* * *

 

It's the dead of night when I feel Erik shake my shoulder. To be honest, waking from a fitful sleep to two yellow, smoldering eyes peering down at you is quite chilling. Erik disregards my protests and insists I meet him in the sitting room. He watches me until I reluctantly agree, since I see little other choice but to.

I drape my robe over my shoulders and drag my heavy body downstairs. By the time I cross into the sitting room, Erik is already pacing about the room. Mentally I brace myself for what will surely prove to be a long conversation and take a seat by the fire. I'm in no rush to speak, so I wait for Erik to speak and enjoy the warmth from the flames.

He stops moving just long enough to look at me. "Why don't you hate me?" He finally demands. I open my mouth to reply, but he cuts me off. "You should, you know. You, of all people. It's rather stupid, if you ask me- that you _don't_ despise me."

"Forgive me then, my friend. For my stupidity." I say before he can continue. Erik pauses with his back to me, and when he turns back I worry that my words have aggravated him.

"You should have let me fall. You know that, yes? That was stupid, too. Since when are you stupid?" Erik growls. I don't let him win the satisfaction of seeing his hostility rattle me. I know Erik, and I know that he will snap into an aggressive verbal assault to shield himself. My blank expression sets him off, and he fumes by the table before slamming his palm onto its surface. " _Damn it_ , Nadir. I am not one of your charity rescues. I am _not_ a good man, nor will I ever be. _At least tell me you know this?_ "

I shake my head. "Once again, you must forgive me. I disagree with what you say." Erik looks positively murderous as I speak. He throws his head back and laughs. It's a cold and cruel sound, and it makes me shiver.

"How can you look at me and see something good?" His voice softens and nearly cracks as he speaks. I watch as the anger fades from his features and turn somber instead. Erik collapses into an arm chair in the corner of the room and buries his face in his hands. I sit quietly as I try to find the bravery to speak and he composes himself.

"When I look at you," I start, letting each word slowly form so that I choose each one carefully. "I see someone who has lived the most extraordinary life." Now Erik looks up from his hands, and I can see that he's clinging to the sound of my voice. "I see someone who has committed the most terrible crimes. I see someone who has invented the most genius contraptions and most delightful works of art. I see someone who has saved my life, so many times that I'm afraid I've lost count."

My eyes start to water and my throat feels raw. I make myself go on as I try to ignore the growing tremor in my voice. "I see someone who had the strength to release my son from his suffering, something a coward like I could never do. I see someone who fell in love with the lead soprano, and then let her go because it was the _right_ thing to do." I meet his wide eyes as he crosses his arms around his chest. "So you see Erik, I do not look at you and see a good man, or a bad man. I see you."

Erik leans forward and his arms gently come to rest on his knees. I almost keep my thoughts to myself, but my heart implores me to go on. I smile, because it makes his eyes twinkle and that makes me feel braver. "Erik, when I look at you I see the brilliant, irritating, spectacular pain in my side that is you. I see you, and I love you."


End file.
